To them his plans
seem visionary; at all events they will require an outlay. A
correspondence ensues - that hateful correspondence! This ensures
delay. Time flies; the expiration of his term draws near. Even
his sanguine temperament has ceased to hope; his plans are not
even commenced, to work out which would require years; he never
could see them realized, and his successor might neglect them and
lay the onus of the failure upon him, the originator, or claim
the merit of their success.
So much for a five years' term of governorship, the absurdity of
which is superlative. It is so entirely contrary to the system
of management in private affairs that it is difficult to imagine
the cause that could have given rise to such a regulation. In
matters great or small, the capability of the manager is the
first consideration; and if this be proved, the value of the man
is enhanced accordingly; no employer would lose him.
But in colonial governments the system is directly opposite, for
no sooner does the governor become competent than he is withdrawn
and transferred to another sphere. Thus every colony is like a
farm held on a short lease, which effectually debars it from
improvement, as the same feeling which actuates the individual in
neglecting the future, because he will not personally enjoy the
fruits of his labor, must in some degree fetter the enterprise of
a five years' governor. He is little better than the Lord Mayor,
who flutters proudly for a year, and then drops his borrowed
feathers in his moulting season.
Why should not governors serve an apprenticeship for five years
as colonial secretaries to the colonies they are destined for, if
five years is still to be the limited term of their office? This
would ensure a knowledge of the colony at a secretary's salary,
and render them fit for both the office and salary of governor
when called upon; whereas, by the present system, they at once
receive a governor's salary before they understand their duties.
In casually regarding the present picture of Ceylon, it is hard
to say which point has been most neglected; but a short
residence in the island will afford a fair sample of government
inactivity in the want of education among the people.
Upon this subject more might be said than lies in my province to
dwell upon; nevertheless, after fifty years' possession of the
Kandian districts, this want is so glaring that I cannot withhold
a few remarks upon the subject, as I consider the ignorant state
of the native population a complete check to the advancement of
the colony.
In commencing this subject, I must assume that the conquerors of
territory are responsible for the moral welfare of the
inhabitants; therefore our responsibility increases with our
conquests. A mighty onus thus rests upon Great Britain, which
few consider when they glory in the boast, "that the sun never
sets upon her dominions."
This thought leads us to a comparison of power between ourselves
and other countries, and we trace the small spot upon the world's
map which marks our little island, and in every sphere we gaze
with wonder at our vast possessions. This is a picture of the
present. What will the future be in these days of advancement?
It were vain to hazard a conjecture; but we can look back upon
the past, and build upon this foundation our future hopes.
When the pomps and luxuries of Eastern cities spread throughout
Ceylon, and millions of inhabitants fed on her fertility, when
the hands of her artists chiseled the figures of her gods from
the rude rock, when her vessels, laden with ivory and spices,
traded with the West, what were we? A forest-covered country,
peopled by a fierce race of savages clad in skins, bowing before
druidical idolatry, paddling along our shores in frames of
wickerwork and hide.
The ancient deities of Ceylon are in the same spots, unchanged;
the stones of the Druids stand unmoved; but what has become of
the nations? Those of the East have faded away and their strength
has perished. Their ships are crumbled; the rude canoe glides
over their waves; the spices grow wild in their jungles; and,
unshorn and unclad, the inhabitants wander on the face of the
land.
Is it "chance" that has worked this change? Where is the
forest-covered country and its savage race, its skin-clad
warriors and their frail coracles?
There, where the forest stood, from north to south and from east
to west, spreads a wide field of rich fertility. There, on those
rivers where the basket-boats once sailed, rise the taut spars of
England's navy. Where the rude hamlet rested on its banks in
rural solitude, the never-weary din of commerce rolls through the
city of the world. The locomotive rushes like a thunder-clap
upon the rail; the steamer ploughs against the adverse wind, and,
rapid as the lightning, the telegraph cripples time. The once
savage land is the nucleus of the arts and civilization. The
nation that from time to time was oppressed, invaded, conquered,
but never subjected, still pressed against the weight of
adversity, and, as age after age rolled on, and mightier woes and
civil strife gathered upon her, still the germ of her destiny, as
it expanded, threw off her load, until she at length became a
nation envied and feared.
It was then that the powers of the world were armed against her,
and all Europe joined to tear the laurels from her crown, and
fleets and armies thronged from all points against the devoted
land, and her old enemy, the Gaul, hovered like his own eagle
over the expected prey.
The thunder of the cannon shook the world, and blood tinged the
waves around the land, and war and tumult shrieked like a tempest
over the fair face of Nature; the din of battle smothered all
sounds of peace, and years passed on and thicker grew the gloom.
